


Letters from the Coldest Depths of Space

by Enisy



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Epistolary, M/M, Mutual Pining, Synthesis Ending, World Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/pseuds/Enisy
Summary: Javik and Shepard send each other letters from April to November. There is a press tour underway and aBlastovid in the making – but there are also secrets and subcutaneous aches, and a poker face is hard to maintain in writing.
Relationships: Javik/Male Shepard (Mass Effect), Javik/Shepard (Mass Effect)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17
Collections: Unsent Letters 2020





	Letters from the Coldest Depths of Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



> Beta-read by the gallant [Duinemerwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duinemerwen/works).

His taxi was waiting.

Even Boston, of all places, seemed beautiful today: blue skies, cooing pigeons, voices undistorted by the omni-tool’s translator, and a comfortable 23 degrees Celsius. Shepard could ask for nothing more. He was practically _whistling_ as he heaved his first suitcase onto the vehicle.

“Let me know when you are finished, Commander.”

His whistle escalated into a Banshee’s dying screech. The rest of the Normandy crew had already gone their separate ways, but _Javik_ , of all people, had insisted on seeing him off.

How touching. And how awkward. Shepard’s forehead was producing enough perspiration to drown a small hamster. The party at his apartment in the Citadel had been loud. Drinks had been imbibed – jokes about “primitives” had been volleyed – challenges had been issued – clothes had been removed. They had both done things they regretted.

Or, in Shepard’s case, did not regret enough.

With forced cheer, he leaned back against the taxi, crossing his arms. “If you wanna say something, Javik, say it.”

“I have a request before you leave, Commander,” said Javik. “I have been reading about traditional human communication. I… would like to experience it for myself.”

“Right. Help me out here. How traditional are we talking?” Shepard grinned uneasily. “Quantum messaging? Animated GIFs? Or, God forbid… American English?”

“Epistolary exchanges.”

“Epist— come on, we’ve sent each other emails before.”

But the Prothean waved an impatient hand. By his manner, you’d think Shepard was a monkey using Matriarch Dilinaga’s exalted breastplate to crack nuts. “I am not talking about emails. They are empty. A monitor’s biomarker does not heed a rearrangement of pixels.” He stared at Shepard meaningly. “I cannot… _read_ an email.”

“Okay then, Javik.” He had his customary smile on: crooked, playful and bemused. “I’ll brave the black market for some ink and postcards. Shall I also milk my cow for you, or are you buying bottled?”

The Prothean’s expression did not waver. “In my cycle, the volus were as large and clumsy as your cows. We used to breed them for food in ammonia tanks. They tasted like anchovies.” Shepard’s eyebrows just about climbed off his head, but Javik saved him the agony of deciding whether that was a joke by adding, “Thank you, Commander.”

“I – sure,” said Shepard, suddenly remembering the taxi and hoisting his last suitcase onto it. “Don’t mention it. Where are _you_ going, by the way?”

“I… will return to the Citadel,” he replied, “to supervise the first cut of the vid you and I shot together.”

A nod from Shepard. A handshake from Javik – once so elusive and now given regularly, freely.

The Prothean shrank to an amoeba on the platform as the vehicle zoomed away. Shepard couldn’t wipe the look of incredulity off his face. _Epistolary_ _fucking exchanges_. This was going to be an interesting few months.

* * *

**Sample 1: Icebreaker**

_Brussels_

_Belgium_

_17 April 2187_

Hey, Javik.

How are you settling in? The Council wants me to go on a worldwide press tour, explaining what motivated me to recombine organic and synthetic DNA. (Technically, it was the Catalyst’s suggestion, but I’m supposed to keep a lid on that.)

I’m cooling my engines a bit before I start. Right now I’m in Brussels, one of the places I grew up in. Lemme tell you, it’s very different when you have credits in your flex account. I lived here for six years and never even _tasted_ Belgian chocolate; now I’m well on my way to regaining the “shredded couch potato” look of my Vancouver house arrest.

The postcard depicts a famous local monument. Yeah, I don’t get it, either.

Over and out,

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_17 April 2187_

Commander.

In my cycle, we built statues for eminent scientists and proud warriors. I do not understand why a micturating child deserves such a tribute, even if it’s dressed like the turian Primarch.

 _Blasto 7: Blasto Goes to War_ is progressing nicely. The hanar worships me like a god, so he and I talked the director into devoting an additional 15 minutes to the refrigerator scene.

Javik

_Brussels_

_Belgium_

_22 April 2187_

Give ‘em hell, Javik.

(Any idea why your letters take so long to arrive? I see you wrote yours on the 17th, and I only received it today. Is the Citadel postal service manned entirely by elcor?)

This postcard features Saint Peter, who is like the Belgian version of Santa Claus, except he rides a horse and arrives here on a steamboat. Santa Claus is… oh, I’m running out of space, I’ll tell you another time.

Cheers,

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_22 April 2187_

I’ll be waiting.

Javik

* * *

**Sample 2: Quarrel**

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_30 May 2187_

Either your press tour hasn’t started yet, or it’s not being televised.

Javik

_New York_

_United States_

_4 June 2187_

It starts next week, barring any unforeseen circumstances. We’re launching it in New York, because it’s still Earth’s greatest megatropolis – and, I suppose, because it’s where Isaac Asimov died. He had a thing or two to say about artificial intelligence.

By the way, you’re doing it again, Javik.

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_4 June 2187_

Doing what, Commander?

Javik

_New York_

_United States_

_9 June 2187_

That. That is what I’m talking about. I’m putting a lot of time into these letters – incidentally, time I could have spent on this press tour that you’re so curious about – and after your first correspondence, all I’ve gotten out of you is one, maybe two sentences at a time.

I don’t have your sensory ability. I can only read what’s there.

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_10 June 2187_

Apologies, Commander.

I’ve been anticipating your press tour because I, too, do not fully understand why you chose to synthesize us with these AIs. Perhaps you can write to me about it.

I must admit, your correspondence spoke to me with the scratchy, raw whisper of ghosts at first – I was not sure I liked it. But if there is decay in it, I realize now it serves to keep something else alive.

I am glad you agreed to try epistolary communication with me. I feared it was the closest thing your cycle had to a Shard – but that’s not true. Each of your letters is a Beacon.

Javik

* * *

**Sample 3: Embrace**

_Tokyo_

_Japan_

_11 July 2187_

Japan pretty. Cats cute. Ads weird. Shepard tired.

Khalisah al-Jilani interviewed me today, and I didn’t punch her. I’ll put that down as a win.

Also, between the untimely death of my Khar’shan Snapping Eel and my experience falling through a fish tank, I have really come to detest sushi.

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_11 July 2187_

That leaves more for me, Commander.

The only advertisement I ever get is an asari saying, “Javik, you seem to belong to an extinct species. Collect Lineage Mileage points now to discover your nearest ancestor. You may be in for a surprise.” Surprise. Let me guess: my nearest ancestor is a primitive.

It is of no consequence. I once had a cousin who collected plant genitalia.

Javik

_Tokyo_

_Japan_

_15 July 2187_

Now I have to burn your letter, Javik – lest it fall into the wrong hands and that flower-picking cousin of yours ends up listed on your Lineage Mileage account. Can’t have that stain on your reputation!

My press conference is starting. Wish me luck. (つ▀¯▀)つ

Shepard

_Bachjret Ward_

_Citadel_

_16 July 2187_

Good luck. And thank you, Commander.

Javik

P.S.: There are traces of an embrace in your last message. It is… not unwelcome. (But I don’t know what that last symbol signifies.)

* * *

**Sample 4: Spark**

_Berlin_

_Germany_

_9 August 2187_

Hello, Javik.

How are you doing? Every public appearance I make is followed by a bunch of schmoozing. Honestly, it’s not my favorite thing in the world – but you do meet some interesting people. Like yesterday, when the director of Blasto 7 came up to me. We had a good laugh about my brief cameo in the vid, and about the stunt double’s poor Shepard impersonation. (I don’t roll. I scurry.) He also mentioned you were a great help to them during the vid’s editing stage… in September. Last year.

So, you’ve been lying to me for months.

You’re not in the Citadel at all, are you?

Shepard

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_10 August 2187_

Hello, Commander.

You are correct. I did not return to the Citadel after we parted ways on Earth. It did not seem right.

I am where I originally told you I’d be: in the Cronian Nebula, where my men lie buried. I have intended to join them for a long time now.

I was forged in the fires of war… whetted by despondence, buffed by loss. What do I know of peace? The only peace I have experienced is in the lee of suppressing fire.

I desired your presence here, before the close. These letters have been a fair substitute – enough so that I fear they’ve blinded me to my true purpose.

Do you have any last words for me, Commander?

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_12 August 2187_

Commander.

I was not entirely truthful.

My death wish faded when I saw you run toward that beam. I knew then I wanted to survive at least long enough to see you home… and that if an Avatar like yourself could find a peacetime occupation, I should not be ashamed to follow suit.

But I wanted to die again after Synthesis occurred.

To be outside of entropy – to have nanobots crawling through my veins – to know my dendrites were replaced with circuitry – was abhorrent. Why did you do it, Commander?

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_13 August 2187_

I have shut them all out, but I can still feel them – making forays into my brain, trying to interface with me.

It will not work. I know who my enemy is.

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_15 August 2187_

Did you do it because the Reapers commanded it? Did they indoctrinate you, after all?

Or did you do it precisely because I pose myself this question?

Perhaps it was within your rights. Perhaps there could be no trust, no understanding between our species otherwise.

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_16 August 2187_

My body has become a prison cell, and my brain a jailer. It will torment me until the day I consign the whole wretched construct to dust.

The sooner, the better.

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_17 August 2187_

I read traces of distress, betrayal and… intimacy in your last message. I must caution you against the latter. It will only lead to pain.

Javik

_Hestia Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_19 August 2187_

Are you angry with me, Commander?

Javik

_Chiron Station_

_Cronian Nebula_

_19 August 2187_

JAVIK STAY WHERE YOU ARE DON’T YOU MOVE A MUSCLE

Shepard

* * *

**Final Sample: Contact**

_From: Javik_

_Date: 02/11/2187 11:04_

_Subject: A modest proposal_

_Body:_

This message is to notify you that I have received free tickets to the premiere of _Blasto 7: Blasto Goes to War_.

I have a voiceover explaining the brutality and self-effacement that war brings – and the level of sacrifice that it demands. And we have filmed an extra scene where I kick Saren’s pet varren out an airlock.

_From: Shepard_

_Date: 02/11/2187 11:14_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal_

_Body:_

But does my stunt double roll? ;)

(There! Emojis! I’m so glad I convinced you to switch to emails. I don’t have to _describe_ or _draw_ my feelings anymore.)

_From: Javik_

_Date: 02/11/2187 11:31_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

Your stunt double has been cut out of all but one scene. (Where he does indeed roll.)

Strange, Shepard – though my sensory ability does not work on emails, I seem to pick up certain traces from your last one.

_From: Shepard_

_Date: 02/11/2187 11:35_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

Um, yeah, Javik. That’s what humans call “reading comprehension.”

_From: Shepard_

_Date: 02/11/2187 15:44_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

What’s up? Last time you took this long to respond, it was because you were trolling Enkindler forums with awkward facts about the traditional Prothean diet.

_From: Javik_

_Date: 02/11/2187 15:46_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

I’m almost done, Shepard.

_From: Shepard_

_Date: 02/11/2187 15:50_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

Done with what?

Are you rereading my October emails with your newfound sleuthing ability?

Just so we’re clear, none of them are to be featured in this “Journeys with a Prothean” book you’re writing with Liara. I have the NDA right here.

_From: Javik_

_Date: 02/11/2187 15:54_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

Such legal threats are not necessary, Shepard.

_From: Shepard_

_Date: 02/11/2187 16:01_

_Subject: Re: A modest proposal…_

_Body:_

I still can’t tell when you’re joking. Let’s catch up in person – we can get some pizza on the Strip. (You’re not gonna order anchovies, are you? You _are_ going to order anchovies. Goddammit.)

P.S.: Whatever traces you may be reading in this message, Javik… _they are all real_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [enisywrites](https://enisywrites.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come on over if you want to drop me a prompt or a question, or to just say hi!


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